


Spellbound

by firenzia



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel Wings, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Erotica, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Grace Kink, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Just oodles of feelings, Light Bondage, Light reference to PTSD, Love and trust, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Smut, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens), Trust, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22932706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firenzia/pseuds/firenzia
Summary: Wherein a simple request for something new in bed turns into an exercise in trust - one that takes both Aziraphale and Crowley by surprise.[Includes a NSFW illustration]
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 94
Kudos: 823
Collections: Top Crowley Library





	Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

> This is a PWP one-shot companion to my series, [Love, and Other Ineffable Things](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1405606)
> 
> For those following chronologically, this takes place sometime after their wedding and move to the Downs.

* * *

  
It was a beautiful summer morning. The kind of morning that lights up the entire house long before you even open your eyes; the kind of morning where anything feels possible, because the earth itself is in a good mood. Crowley had awoken early (for him) to their little upstairs bedroom awash in golden sunlight. He was warm and comfortable, his husband was curled sleeping in his arms, and for a while had simply lain there feeling content to be alive.

Now he was busily making sure the day became even better. He was solidly awake before 10am, for once, and if he was going to be conscious then he intended to make the most of it. Specifically, he was making sure his angel didn’t get out of bed, not even to go make breakfast.

He was currently kneeling in the centre of their bed, grasping fistfuls of the white silk nightshirt (edged with lace, because of course it was), and hauling him back towards him. “Nope, nope, get back here. You can’t get up yet, I’m cold.”

“Oh, for heav- you are _not_.” Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind; he was smiling, and didn’t even bother pulling away.

Crowley grinned and reeled him into his arms, holding him tightly and pressing his lips to his throat. "You’re so damn beautiful,” he mouthed inaudibly against his neck, unable to help himself. He licked the pale skin and nipped at the special place that always, always got a reaction, nuzzling his way up to his ear.

The angel snorted, trying not to giggle and failing terribly. “Don’t be ridicu- stop that, that tickles – you ridiculous serpent, you never get cold.” Words notwithstanding, he twisted around to face him and slid his own arms around his waist, yanking him close and kissing him. Crowley had to hold him tighter for balance as those hands slid up his bare back, running smooth fingers along his spine and setting his head spinning. He sighed against his mouth. No matter how often he got to do this, it still left him dizzy, with effervescent joy sparkling in his chest like champagne bubbles. And why shouldn’t it? The most flawless creature in existence was kissing him. Him, of all people. That wasn’t the sort of thing one just got used to. 

His own hands were wandering now, too. The silk fabric was soft and luxurious under his fingers, and Aziraphale's body even more so beneath that. He really wished the angel would deign to sleep in only his underwear, like he did, but he had to admit that fine things suited him as well. “C’mon, now,” he murmured. “Come warm me up. You wouldn’t leave me cold and suffering, would you?” He kissed the special place on his neck again and reached down to stroke under the nightshirt, letting his fingertips trail up his plush inner thigh. 

“Mmf.” Aziraphale’s hands were warm on his cheeks as he gripped his face and kissed him again. His mouth was sweet and increasingly eager. “Wicked thing. Are you trying to tempt me, darling?” 

“Obviously.” Crowley smirked and pulled him closer. “Sharp as a cudgel, you are.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and gave him a playful little shove- and an unexpected surge of strength sent him flying backwards. Crowley smacked flat to the bed with a graceless _whump_ as if swatted by the hand of God Herself.

“... _Oof_ ,” was all he could say. The breath had been knocked clean out of him.

“Oh!” Aziraphale recoiled and clapped both hands over his mouth, eyes wide with dismay. “I’m so _dreadfully_ sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to push you that hard. Are you alright?” He looked flushed and embarrassed and oh so incredibly cute.

Crowley just stared up at him from his back, limbs sprawled out and mouth slightly agape. His mind was awhirl from the sudden surge of adrenaline. _Wow._

Aziraphale was always so…subtle with his angelic Grace, always so careful to not let even a drop show unless absolutely necessary, that it was sometimes easy to forget that he could mash him into paste with a gesture if he wanted. He was fairly sure that Aziraphale forgot about it himself most of the time. All angels naturally outstripped demons (by far) in every kind of power, but this particular angel almost seemed embarrassed by it. He had certainly never used any of that power on Crowley, and especially not in this kind of context. Never once over the millennia they had known each other, and not once in nearly ten months together. Now that he thought about it, that must have been a constant, deliberate choice.

His soft angel preferred to live as humanly as possible, but every once in a while, like now, he slipped. At moments like this that glimmer of something eldrich and magnificent peeked through the comfortable exterior, and it was absolutely...thrilling.

Alright, it was absolutely damn _sexy_ , if he was honest with himself. But then, nearly everything about Aziraphale was. 

“I’m just fine,” was all he said. Heart thumping, he sat up again and shuffled back towards him on his knees. “Don’t worry, I’m not made of glass.” He cupped his face between his hands and kissed him. “Hey, don’t look like that. You don’t need to be embarrassed. I _do_ know how strong you are, after all. I know you’re always holding back.”

The angel’s eyes slid sideways, almost awkward. “Oh. Well, I mean...hardly, my dear.”

“Ah, come on. I know what angelic power is like. It doesn’t bother me. In fact...” His fingers closed around Aziraphale’s wrists, and he gently pressed them back against the tall wooden headboard, as he had done dozens of times before. “You could always use it a little,” he said, as casually as possible. He raised an eyebrow at him and bent his head to kiss his neck again. “You know. If you wanted to be a bit stronger than me,” he mumbled, conveniently avoiding his eyes. He felt his cheeks grow warm, but forged ahead. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“You mean…pin you down?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “If you like. Why not? I do it to you often enough.”

Aziraphale swallowed, throat clicking under his lips. “Well, yes...but, I mean...”

“Wouldn’t you like to let it go, just a little bit, just once?” Crowley murmured, lips still against his neck. “Hmm?” He licked the silky soft skin, feeling him shiver under his tongue. “No one’s here but me. You don’t have to be afraid to show it. It’s kind of intriguing, really.” It was a damn sight more than intriguing. Now that the idea had occurred to him, the thought of feeling some of that angelic strength, of feeling that side of him, was suddenly irresistible. It was one thing to know about it, and another entirely to _know_. The idea set his blood simmering beneath his skin, and he was having a hard time hiding just how exciting it was.

Aziraphale hesitated.

Crowley experienced a sudden pang of guilt, dousing the excitement. He knew that Aziraphale didn’t like flaunting his supernatural side.

“Ah, never mind. I’m sorry, my angel. It was just an idea; I shouldn’t have-” He kicked himself, mentally. He released one wrist and put a finger under his chin, peering into his face. “You know I’ll have you any way you like,” he said quietly. He resumed kissing his neck, pressing the remaining wrist against the bed and trying to put it out of his mind.

Then suddenly that wrist was pushing back, lifting his hand away from the headboard with inexorable force. He slowly raised his head and looked at him. Aziraphale was holding his arm out without any visible effort, watching him. Gauging his reaction.

Crowley tried to push his arm back, leaning into it with all his might, and broke into an awed smile when he didn’t budge even a fraction.

“Well, hello angel,” he breathed.

Aziraphale looked at him with that oddly vulnerable expression again, searching his face, for- something. Judgment? Fear, maybe? Whatever it was, he didn’t find it, and after a long moment something in his demeanor seemed to relax. His mouth curved into a slow smile, eyes creasing back into the sparkle of a few minutes before. “Hello, darling.” He moved across the short distance to kiss him, and the next thing Crowley knew he was falling backwards again, pushed over onto the bed. Aziraphale landed atop him and slid his hands to both wrists, taking hold and pinning him down in the blankets with arms out at his sides.

Crowley strained upward with all his strength, grunting, but those hands didn’t budge. “Wow,” he said, grinning. “You’ve definitely been holding out on me.”

“I like it when you pin me down.” The angel seemed embarrassed by his own candor- he was blushing bright pink. “And I thought...well. I was afraid you wouldn’t like it.”

“Are you kidding? There’s nothing you could do to me that I wouldn’t like.” The fervent reply popped out of his mouth before he could think about what he was saying, and he felt his own face grow red-hot. He shut his mouth and resisted the almost overwhelming (futile) urge to seize one of the decorative tasseled pillows and hide his face with it. _Smooth. So smooth._

Aziraphale’s eyebrows had shot up, and he was beaming down at him now, eyes twinkling. “Oh, _really_? Is that so?”

Crowley cleared his throat, cheeks burning, determinedly avoiding his eyes. “Well...yeah. I trust you,” he said, and stopped.

The simple, ringing truth of those three words hit him like a smack in the face and left him stunned. It occurred to him, right then, that it was the first time in his life he had spoken those words. There was no one else in this absurd, paradoxical little universe whom he could say them to.

He dared to meet his eyes. “I trust you,” he said again, wonderingly, and it took his breath away. Three tiny syllables. Such a small thing to say, yet...as vast as the sky.

His heart started beating faster, tapping against his throat as he gazed enthralled up at him. So gorgeously perfect, and kind, and _strong_. He wanted to see more, to feel that strength in all its glory, to show him how much he trusted him. He suddenly wanted that very badly. “Well, go on then. Pin me down and have your way with me.” He wiggled his hips a little and cracked a grin, trying to recapture some of the levity. “Have some fun with it. Let loose a bit, Mr. Ethereal.”

Aziraphale was still smiling, but there was a new intensity in the way he was looking at him now. He had bright spots of colour high in his cheekbones, making his eyes look very blue. “Well…I guess, since you ask...” He chewed on his lip for a second, then his smile slowly turned into something mischievous. “Do you want me to pin you like _this_?”

Crowley shrugged. “Any way you like.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows at him. His hands tightened on his wrists.

Ever so gently, he pulled Crowley’s arms together, up above his head, and pressed his crossed wrists down against the mattress with one open hand. He leaned in until their lips were almost touching, and murmured, in a silken-soft tone, _“Stay.”_

And abruptly Crowley could not move his arms.

He tilted his head back curiously and looked at them, but there was no restraint to be seen. His wrists were pinned to the bed, as firmly as if tied, but with shackles of pure will. It was as if the air itself had become solid. He tugged against the invisible bonds, testing them; they did not give in the slightest. They didn’t hurt or dig into his skin at all, but he couldn’t move an inch.

There was a sudden crimson flash of instinctive and completely unexpected terror at the sensation. A knee-jerk stab of visceral fear and memory struck him in the gut, and he tensed in shock. He hadn’t been so helpless in millennia, not since... Helpless meant loss. Helpless meant pain and screaming and death, and mocking demonic laughter. Helpless was to be avoided at all costs. Adrenaline shot through him; a panicked gasp caught in his throat, and he looked back up into his husband’s face.

Aziraphale was looking down at him, only inches away, and there was a gentleness as deep as the ocean in those blue eyes. There was six thousand years of love and trust. There were countless nights of soft arms holding him close and rocking away his nightmares.

His angel, his safe harbour. His lighthouse through the dark.

As Crowley met those eyes the maelstrom stilled. The fear drained out of him, and he felt his entire being relax down to the very marrow as something deep inside surrendered. It was like releasing his death-grip on a dagger that he hadn’t even known he was holding, and the shocking relief nearly made him sob. Six thousand years of friendship, of knowing the inner workings of his heart. There was no danger here. Aziraphale knew him to his core, had seen all the harsh edges and ugly squirming parts of his soul, and loved him anyway. He would never harm him or let him be harmed. Crowley was wrapped up in his power like a warm blanket, and he was completely, utterly...safe.

The most profound sense of peace washed over him from his fingers to the tips of his toes; he went slack against the bed with a sigh, and just lay there gazing up at him in open wonder.

_Safe._

He felt safer, right here, completely incapacitated underneath him, than he did anywhere else in the world.

Aziraphale was watching him closely, those little wrinkles between his brows creased in concern. “Are…are you alright, darling? Do you want me to let go?”

“M’fine,” he said dreamily. His voice was slightly breathless, but not with fear. He felt a lazy smile spread across his face, and his eyes slid half-shut. He sighed again. “Mmm. More than fine.” Calm was moving through him in waves, so powerfully it was almost a euphoria, and he stretched languidly against the angel’s bonds. It was not unlike falling asleep in his arms, really; there was the same sense of complete submission, that moment of faith as you fade into unconsciousness- the faith that all would be well. His mind felt loose and open, free of all anxiety or responsibility, and in that total absence there was only longing: the completely unfettered, uninhibited longing for him.

How strange, how unexpected, to feel so free.

Aziraphale blinked down at him in surprise, and his worried expression slowly turned up into a bemused smile. “Hm. So you _don’t_ want me to let go, then?” He brushed a piece of hair out of his face and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Mn mnn.” Crowley looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, just enjoying the sight of him there. “No.” His heart was fluttering against his ribs like a caged bird; he felt so impossibly relaxed and yet impossibly alive all at once. The sunlit room seemed to take on a razor-edge clarity, and he was acutely aware of every single little detail of Aziraphale’s presence: the rise and fall of his chest beneath the silk nightshirt, his parted lips, the press of his hands on the mattress to either side of him. He wanted him to touch him, to put those soft, inhumanly strong hands on his skin right now. He didn’t care how or where. There was nothing in the world he could do that would be unwelcome. His whole body cried out for him, tingling, and there was something deliciously suspenseful in being unable do a thing about it, something wonderfully liberating in just waiting to see what he would do. Knowing that it would be incredible no matter what he chose.

He stretched again, feeling slightly dazed, and lifted his hips to brush against his groin. “I promise I’m fine. Go on. Do whatever you want with me.” He was going for casual, but it came out sounding almost pleading. He was so full of yearning that he thought it might bleed out of his skin.

Aziraphale was still propped right above him on his hands and knees, blond head tilted to one side as he studied his face. Crowley’s earnest expression must have convinced him that he meant it, for the mischievous smile returned in force. “Whatever I want, hmm? Well, I guess if you _insist_...” He shifted over to kneel next to him, then sat back on his heels and pulled the silk nightshirt up over his head. He was very naked underneath the shirt and very slow about removing it, and Crowley’s already-labouring heart started ricocheting around in his chest at the sight. Never in ten thousand thousand years would he get tired of looking at his body. His lovely, soft, beautifully _aroused_ body.

Aziraphale carefully set the shirt aside, then reached over and briefly entwined his fingers with Crowley’s. “If you change your mind, love, just tell me,” he said quietly. He was breathing just a little bit faster as he slowly looked him up and down, eyes taking in every inch of him, and now his faint smile was decidedly eager. “Hmmm. Whatever shall I do with you?” He tilted his head thoughtfully and smoothed a hand down his bare chest.

The contact sent a shiver through him, and Crowley exhaled in mingled shock and exhilaration. “Oh...” His skin felt incredibly sensitive, just begging to be touched; goosebumps rippled over his entire body in response to that hand.

“Oh, my. Do you like that, darling?” Aziraphale asked softly. He stroked him again, slower, and Crowley squirmed in barely-contained delight. It was mind-blowing that a simple caress could feel so good.

“Ah, wow. That’s, uhh…that’s…”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale murmured. “Mmm.” He ran his hand over him a few more times, skimming soft fingertips over his pectorals, sketching the lines of his ribs, while Crowley moaned and arched up into his hand. On the fifth pass those fingers kept moving down, trailing over his stomach and the harsh jut of his pelvic bone, until they were tracing the contours of Crowley’s erection through his boxer briefs. He hadn’t even realized he was hard, but oh Satan, he _was_. It stood up in such stark relief that it might as well have been carved from stone. He whimpered as his husband touched it, so lightly, feeling it jolt.

“Oh, aren’t you lovely,” Aziraphale breathed. He lifted his head and looked at him, eyes bright and fixed intently on his face. “Look at you, so ready for me already.” One fingertip kept tracing, barely touching, sending little ripples of pleasure through him and somehow making him even harder. Crowley panted, open-mouthed, and tried to thrust up against him, but Aziraphale moved his hand with him each time, keeping that excruciating touch just so. Still stroking him gently with one forefinger, he leaned over to kiss his mouth, and Crowley stretched up to meet him with a moan. He kissed him ravenously until the angel pulled back, just a little, holding himself barely out of reach no matter how hard he strained. He could just brush his lips, but his bound wrists prevented him from getting anything more. The almost-pressure of both lips and finger had him keening, his whole body quivering; he didn’t know which one he wanted most, but felt he might die if he didn’t touch him right now. His heart was going to pound straight through his rib cage if he didn’t take him into his arms.

He opened his eyes to find Aziraphale right there, just watching him, eyes creased in a teasing smile. “Oh, you bastard,” he said breathlessly, but he couldn’t help smiling back. He was glorious. “Get _over_ here.” He tugged as hard as he could, trying in vain to cross that last fraction of a distance to devour his lips, but only succeeded in exhausting himself. He fell back against the pillow and let out a small growl of frustration.

Aziraphale was smirking now as he leaned down again and slowly touched their lips together. “You did say to have some fun with it, my love,” he murmured. He kissed him lightly, just a quick peck, far too quick for him to reciprocate, then on the throat, then the mouth again. He closed his eyes and held himself right there with a faint smile, just barely touching, breathing softly against his lips and holding, holding… Then with an impatient exclamation his arms were suddenly around him, his wonderful, perfect, strong arms, and he was kissing him and pressing his solid, naked body all atop his own as if he couldn’t bear to wait another second.

The sudden explosion of contact was like a thousand fireworks going off under his skin; Crowley made a shocked sound against his mouth and nearly came right there on the spot. He couldn’t hold him with his arms like he so desperately wanted to, but he drew his knees up and wrapped his legs around Aziraphale as tightly as he could, grinding up against his hard groin. “I want you,” he gasped between kisses. “Angel, I want you _now_. Please.” He had never begged before, but then he had never needed to.

“Patience, love.” Aziraphale was equally breathless, words belied by the frantic movement of his hands. Those hands were soft and insistent, sliding up along his back, then down under him to grope his buttocks and thighs with urgent greed, rubbing between his legs and fondling the softness beneath his rigid sex. He kissed him again, fiercely, matching him heat for heat. “Patience,” he groaned again. His mouth and tongue were on his lips, his throat, his chest, all while his hands explored every inch of him, touching him in all his favourite places. It was an absolute feast after the careful tantalizing of before, and Crowley gave himself over to it completely. He closed his eyes and indulged, moaning and losing all concept of time as he let his husband do whatever he wanted...and he apparently wanted a lot. 

Then suddenly Aziraphale had his hands on his chest and was pushing himself down his body, trailing burning kisses all the way. He knelt between his legs, vanished away the boxer briefs with a snap of his fingers, and oh, oh, finally wrapped his hand around him, taking firm hold of his erection. He must have used magic at some point, for his fingers were warm and slippery now. Crowley moaned in abject relief and eagerly tried to thrust, but Aziraphale placed a firm hand on his abdomen, below the navel, and held him down. “Don’t move now, darling. I’ll take care of you.” He began stroking him slowly, bottom to top, carefully spreading that warmth over every flushed inch. “Does that feel nice?” he asked.

“Nnnngghhk.” Crowley threw back his head and huffed out a sound between a laugh and a groan. “You know it does.”

”Mmm hmmm. I just like hearing you say it,” he murmured. He suddenly tightened his grip, making him gasp, then increased the pace, stroking him faster and faster as Crowley writhed and steadily came apart at the seams. There was nothing in the world beyond his angel’s hand around him, holding him so tight, tighter than usual; _oh_ , his mouth hot and wet on the tip of his sex, licking, sucking... He wanted to bury his hands in that blond hair, to hold his head down and thrust into his mouth until he spent himself, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything except lie there, entirely at his mercy. Now his – _oh, fuck_ – his slick fingers were slipping inside him as well and sending almost unbearable pleasure arcing through his entire body like electricity. Those fingers stroked in a come-hither motion, in tandem with his tongue, and Crowley arched up off the bed with a cry, anchored by his wrists above his head. Aziraphale’s other hand pressed down on his abdomen again, immobilizing him, and all he could do was moan and shake helplessly as he was quickly reduced to a gasping, ecstatic mess.

The angel raised his head and looked at him, keeping his fingers inside. His face was full of a feverish light. “I love you so much, my darling,” he said quietly. That finger stroked again, and Crowley groaned. His hair was damp with sweat, and a few strands had fallen into his eyes with all his thrashing. Aziraphale reached over and tenderly brushed it out of his face, smoothing it away from his forehead. “Do you love me?”

“Nnngk.”

“Go on, say it.” His fingertip moved again, so slowly, just barely rubbing that exquisite spot deep inside. “Say it for me, my love.”

“I- I love you,” Crowley gasped, and felt a physical thrill at the words, even through all the other sensations. Those fingers moved again, perfect, making him moan and jerk against his bonds. “I love you,” he said again, barely able to get the words out. “Fuck. I love you. I want you.”

“I want you too. Don’t come yet, darling. I’m not done with you. Not by half.” Keeping his hold on his now thoroughly-slicked erection, Aziraphale straddled his lap, then slowly, gradually eased himself down onto him, inch by inch, maintaining eye contact while he did. He moaned as he finally settled onto his hips. "Mmmmm. Oh.” He braced both hands on his chest and shifted his own hips, then again, bolder, and he clenched his eyes shut, mouth falling open slightly. “Ah...”

That look on his face…Crowley’s mouth was bone-dry from panting, and he swallowed hard. “That’s it, angel,” he murmured. “Just do what feels good.”

“It does.” Aziraphale leaned down and kissed him slowly, without urgency now, sucking gently on his lower lip. “It does feel good. _You_ feel good.” He laid a hand on his chest, over his heart, and Crowley felt it thud almost painfully against the damp palm. The angel closed his eyes and held his hand there, sharing that beat as he let his mouth trail from his lips down to the hollow at the base of his throat. He licked him, then again at the answering whimper. “Mmm. You taste good, too,” he whispered.

“I-” Crowley had to swallow before he was able to make any sound. “I want to touch you,” he whispered. He flexed his fingers, but his wrists were as solidly bound as ever.

Aziraphale smiled at him now, dazzling, and it struck him like an arrow through the chest. He stroked both hands along his jawline, fingertips barely touching. “But I like you like this, my dear,” he said softly, lips just an inch from his own. He ran a hand through his hair, and there was a kind of tender awe in his face. “My absolutely gorgeous love.”

He kissed him once more, then straightened up again and closed his eyes. “And I believe you promised to let me have my way.” He rolled his shoulders, as if stretching; he let out a long, slow breath.

And enormous white wings spun outward from his back, a shining cape of white feathers spreading wide enough to touch both walls of the room. Not stark, cold white, but alabaster, with a faint opalescent sheen tucked here and there among the plumage. They caught the sunlight pouring in behind him and scattered flecks every which way as the wings stretched out, illuminated through like a stained glass window.

Time stood still. Crowley’s blood turned to liquid light, and he couldn’t have moved even if his wrists were free. He could barely breathe. He could only stare, transfixed by something far more powerful than magic, while his heart stuttered in his chest.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and gazed down at him, limned in white gold from wingtip to wingtip, bright and glorious and utterly...breathtaking.

Breathtaking and powerful and soft, with his strong hands resting quiet on his chest. It was not a brash or loud strength, nothing so vulgar as that. So many people only recognized power that shouted, that ran through the streets proclaiming its own might. Those kinds of people, those blind fools, they saw Aziraphale’s mild manner and neatly pressed clothes, his empathy and vulnerability, and mistook that gentleness for weakness. But Crowley knew better. He gazed up at him in turn, utterly enraptured. His angel’s strength was that of a mountain, quiet and unyielding, the strength to simply _be_ without compromise or explanation. Beneath that soft exterior lay a core of bright, true steel, and it had no need to boast.

He loved him as lightning loves the mountaintop.

“ _Angel_ ,” he breathed. It wasn’t enough, not nearly, but it was all he could manage. “Angel.”

Aziraphale reached out to caress his cheek, the gesture graceful as a dance, and brushed his thumb over his lips. “You’re trembling, love,” he said softly. “Are you alright?” Wings shifted behind him in a rustle of ivory feathers, making changing patterns in the golden light. They lowered to rest on the bed and hang over the sides. 

“I…”

_I will love you until the heat death of the universe. I would tear the very sun out of the sky with my bare hands if it hurt your eyes. I’m lost, and I never want to find myself again._

“I’m fine,” he whispered, and licked his lips. “Completely fine. Don’t stop.”

Those blue eyes crinkled again as Azirahale smiled and sat up. He braced his hands on his chest and began rocking steadily against him, keeping him pressed firmly down and their eyes locked together. “You feel so good, my darling,” he said quietly. “I can’t believe you’re mine.” Holding his gaze, he slowly moved one hand to his own erection, and took hold of it.

 _Holy shit._ Crowley felt his mouth drop open. His mind was full of static, and he thought he might discorporate on the spot as Aziraphale began stroking himself, breath catching with every movement of his hand. Now he was rocking faster, rubbing in time with each push, making tiny little sounds of pleasure through parted lips, and oh, oh God, the expression on his face alone was enough to ruin him.

Aziraphale reached out, wings spreading in unison with the gesture, and the invisible force holding Crowley’s wrists yanked his left hand forward. The angel caught it in a grip like stone and pressed it to his own chest, over his heart. He kept his hand there atop it, effortlessly holding him in place as he continued rocking and pleasuring himself with eyes closed, face transported, and Crowley could only stare enthralled at the absolute vision above him. He was stretched taut against his remaining restraint, arched up off the bed towards him; caught in his gravitational pull like a planet reaching towards its burning star. Aziraphale’s chest was soft and warm against his palm; his pulse throbbed under his hand in time with the throbs of ecstasy radiating from his groin. Those breathless, hungry moans vibrated down his outstretched arm into his own chest and threatened to shake him apart. He was unraveling, completely undone, and overwhelmed tears suddenly pricked threatening behind his eyes. He clenched them shut in mortified shame and turned his face away.

Fingers touched his cheek, light as a kiss. “Look at me, my love. You don’t ever need to hide from me.”

He couldn’t look. He couldn’t bear it. There was no hiding from him, not like this. Before that perfect, shining grandeur he was so intimately exposed, so much more than naked. His entire chest was torn open with his ravaged heart beating and vulnerable, all his longing and failings and sins laid bare before him, the dark and ugly corners of his spirit on full display. Defenseless. A single harsh word, a single disdainful glance could burn his soul to ash.

 _I trust you._ He forced himself to open his eyes, and it took all the courage he had.

Aziraphale looked down at him, flame-bright...and smiled. “Beautiful,” he sighed. The hand on his cheek stroked, just a feather-brush of the thumb. “You’re so beautiful.”

A sob climbed up the back of Crowley’s throat, but he swallowed it down.

The angel was looking at him as if he was something lovely and precious, still clasping his hand to his breast as he rocked. Slowly, deliberately, he slid Crowley’s hand down to rest on his rock-hard sex, wrapping his fingers around it and enfolding his hand in both of his. Crowley grasped eagerly, moaning with gratitude for the luxury. He miracled some lubricant onto his palm and stroked him the way he liked, glorying in his beautiful shape, trembling at the feel of him stiff and leaking in his hand. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the tip, and Aziraphale bit his lip and moaned, the sound full of shameless pleasure. “Yes,” he whispered tightly. “Oh. Like that. Oh...” His eyes were glazed, face flushed, wings held at quivering tension as he visibly struggled to hold out. His movements were becoming jerkier, and he seemed barely in control as he thrust his hips forward, into his hand.

“I love you,” Crowley whispered. He shivered as goosebumps sprang up all over his naked skin, mingling with the sweat, but this time he didn’t look away.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and shuddered atop him as well. “Say it again.”

“I love you, I trust you. I love you. Nnngh...” He nearly lost it, but managed to seize his control by the scruff and haul it back.

With a sharp exhale of relief Aziraphale started riding him hard. “Ah... Oh, I can’t stop, oh I’m going to come...”

“God, yes please. Come for me, angel.”

“Quick, take me, finish me off before I-”

Both hands were suddenly free, and with a desperate cry Crowley surged up from the bed, grabbed him round the waist and tumbled them over in a flurry of white feathers. He seized his legs, wrapped them forcibly around his waist, and slammed himself home again with a long, drawn out groan.

“Yes, don’t stop....oh, oh _Crowley, yes_!” Aziraphale’s eyes rolled back into his head, and there was a burst of sticky warmth between them as he came on his chest. His wings snapped convulsively inward, wrapping around them both and pressing against his bare skin.

“Oh, _fuck_.” The sight and feel of the angel’s orgasm sent him over the edge; he grabbed his soft hips with both hands and thrust wildly, willpower shattered to pieces, expending all the energy and movement he had hoarded in one cathartic effort. He took him as hard as he could as he moaned and sobbed out his own climax. “Oh God, angel, oh my fucking God...I love you, _I love you_...” He clamped his teeth down on Aziraphale’s sweat-slicked shoulder, writhing in pure unfiltered rapture. He gathered him into his arms and thrust deeper, still coming, pressing them inextricably together as he emptied himself far beyond what he had thought possible. Every time he thought he might be reaching the end another blissful surge had him moaning and thrusting all over again.

“Yes, darling, oh yes, like- like that. _Mmmmh_.” Aziraphale’s eyes were clenched shut, his strong hands clutching, fingernails digging burning furrows into his shoulders and buttocks as he pulled him harder into him. It felt like it was going to leave marks, and at that moment Crowley wanted nothing more. 

For a long time after the shudders ceased he didn’t move, just lay there with arms around him, face pressed into his lover's neck. He was still sweating profusely and didn’t trust his limbs to work properly. Aziraphale held him close to his chest, wings still embracing and pressing silky feathers all down the back of him, gently rubbing his damp skin. Kissing his hair and stroking his head while his trembling slowly subsided into a gentle euphoria.

"Are you alright, love?" the angel asked quietly after a while. He kissed him again and ran his hand through the damp tangles of his hair, massaging his warm scalp with his fingertips and sending tingles of entirely different pleasure through him. 

"Yup," he croaked hoarsely, but didn’t raise his head. _More than alright, actually._ "Jolly good. All tickety-boo over here." He tucked his face a little further into his neck, then said, “I...don’t think I can move just yet.” Nor did he want to. He was completely wrapped up in him, layered tightly in both arms and wings, and he wasn’t ready to give up that sense of perfect security. Even the smarting scratches along his back and flank only reinforced the feeling, reminders of the strength in those same hands currently touching his hair. 

”That’s fine. Just stay there, darling.” Crowley felt him make a gesture with one arm, and there was a flash of power in the air. A moment later a wet cloth touched the back of his neck, wiping away the sweat. It felt almost impossibly good. He moaned and shifted a little, holding him closer while his heartbeat slowed and that cool cloth soothed his fevered skin. 

“So...” There was a faint note of trepidation in Aziraphale's voice. “What did you think?”

Crowley coughed out something like a laugh, and finally raised his head to look at him. It made his shell-shocked brain spin, just a bit, but he managed to meet his eyes. “I think you know very well what I thought. Holy damn. I admit I got...far more than I bargained for. In a good way...” He trailed off, distracted by the way the corners of those eyes crinkled as he smiled. He could happily dissolve into those blue eyes and drift, right here, staring, forever. The white wings were still wrapped all around him, touching from his head down to his heels, enfolding them both in a sunlit cocoon of feathers. It was warm and soft. Aziraphale's body was equally soft beneath him, legs twined through his own, and there was no more perfect place to be in all the world. Crowley watched the play of light filtering in through the wings, haloing around the angel's head, and reflected dazedly that heaven was diminished for having lost this one. 

Aziraphale kissed his nose and started gently cleaning off his equally-sweaty forehead. “I just wanted to be sure," he said quietly. "At first you seemed like- well. I’ve never used force against anyone before, other than...enemies." He lowered his eyes. "I was rather afraid that it might change how you see me. That it would feel like...like a violation.” 

Crowley snapped into focus at that. “Angel.” He took his wrist, pausing him in his ministrations and making him meet his eyes. He finally understood what was bothering him, and this was far too important to say casually. “You didn’t use it against me. It wasn’t a weapon,” he said seriously, holding his gaze. “You didn’t hurt me, you weren't being cruel. Do you have any idea how different-” He had to stop and swallow for a moment before continuing. “You used it _with_ me, okay? And it was wonderful. You're magnificent.” He released his wrist and reached up to stroke his cheek, frowning. “Did it feel like a violation to _you_?” 

Aziraphale’s mouth had curved up into a smile again, and now it slowly spread into a grin. “Well. No, as a matter of fact. It _was_ rather wonderful, wasn’t it?”

Crowley grinned back in relief, keeping his hand on his cheek. “Oh, it wasn't too bad. I might even let you do it again sometime. You know. If you ask very nicely.” 

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale's own grin turned very un-angelically mischievous again, and it set Crowley's heart flip-flopping. “I think _you_ are the one who is going to end up asking nicely, my love. Seeing as how you get so cold.” His voice was wry now. 

“We’ll just see about that.” He was still feeling loose and rather dizzy, so he laid his head back on his chest with a sigh, smirking. Aziraphale's chest made the most wonderful pillow. Perfect, just like the rest of him. He closed his eyes, feeling that same quiet strength move through him like the tide with every rise and fall of his breath. “It’s still early," he murmured. "Do you mind if we stay here for a little while before getting up?” 

“Of course not, love. Rest as long as you need.”   
  
Aziraphale resumed stroking his hair, running his hands through it, hands that didn’t need to grasp to be strong. Hands that healed instead of harmed, and did so many other wonderful things as well. Hands that he didn't need to guard himself from, that he trusted to keep him safe.   
  
And when Crowley felt himself drifting off to sleep, he didn’t hesitate for even a second.   
  


* * *

Illustration by Selene Volturo 

**Author's Note:**

> Want more Ineffable Husbands PWP? This is my companion PWP account, so check out my other works here for more of the same.
> 
> Also: I now have an Instagram where I will be compiling all the art I commission for my fics! Also will have new fic announcements, etc. Will include some NSFW art, so if you are 18+ and want to follow, come find me on IG @IneffablePenguin


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